


The Sporting Rabbit

by sumhowe_sailing



Series: rafflesweek2018 [2]
Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, sort-of mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumhowe_sailing/pseuds/sumhowe_sailing
Summary: For the prompt "All honor to the sporting rabbit!"





	The Sporting Rabbit

I believe if I had started the evening in better spirits there would have been nothing remarkable about it. As it was, by the time Raffles called upon me that evening I was in a foul mood. There was no particular reason for it, only the cumulative effect of a hundred minor irritations. Yet the moment I heard his hand upon my door, some perverse whim decided that Raffles must be at the root of every evil in my life. I tried, a little, to suppress my vitriol when he walked in, but I had had too much brandy already to be quite master of myself.

“What a feisty rabbit you are tonight,” Raffles laughed after a particularly vicious comment from me. His amusement only irked me further.

“Why don’t you go find someone else to make sport of for once?” I snapped.

“Ah, that’s just it. I did not come here to make sport _of_ you, Bunny, but to make sport _with_ you. We have a golden opportunity this evening, and I should hate to waste it over such a trifle as this.”

“As what?”

“Ideally, of course, you would be sober, or at least more nearly so. But I suppose that is my own fault for not tipping you the wink a little sooner, eh?”

I retreated to sullen silence. It was an argument we’d had many and many a time; I would insist on knowing more about his plans, and he would promise to do better, and then continue leaving me in the dark. And now he had the absolute gall to wink at me as he criticized me for not knowing what he hadn’t told me!

All the same, in spite of my protests and resentment, he had soon convinced me to accompany him on his little mission. It was meant to be a simple task—hardly sporting, it would be so easy—one I could do even in my compromised state. Needless to say, something went wrong. The butler had evidently also seized this golden opportunity to take advantage of his position; we stumbled across each other in the master bedroom. After some shouting and a brief tussle, we made it back through the window and were on our way before the police arrived. I was furious to think what a hero the thieving butler would make himself out to be, how he had saved the family jewels from two low-life criminals, how lucky that he had been there! I know it is hypocritical of me to judge him, but I make no pretense of virtue in my unfortunate adventures.

Raffles, though, always seemed to see virtue enough for the both of us. Not in the moral sense we are all so accustomed to, but the virtue of an artist laboring over a masterpiece. And somehow he managed to find artistic merit even in my own inept fumbling. When we arrived back in the Albany, I presented him with a small box I had wrested from the butler in the struggle; the ecstasies he went into over it amazed me.

“Why Bunny, you marvelous fellow!” he cried, opening it, “Whatever made you think of it?”

I stuttered and stumbled for a moment, trying to explain that it was simply an impulse. I do not think he heard a word. He was far too enraptured by the glistening gems the box contained.

“I must commend him on his taste,” he said at last, holding the box out to me that I might see what Fortune had brought us. As I looked at the brilliant stones, I could feel Raffles looking at me. I did not want to meet his eye. Our adventure had sobered me and I was ashamed of the harsh things I had said to him earlier. Magician that he was, he seemed to read my thoughts.

“How lucky I am to have you, Bunny. No matter what a cad I am to you, no matter how cross you are with me, your presence of mind, your nerves, my dear rabbit, they are more than I deserve.”

I blushed terribly, staring resolutely at the carpet when he closed the box and set it aside.

“What a reward you have given me, Bunny, and how little I have done to earn it.”

“A.J.—” I protested. He took my hand and cut me off.

“Let me earn it now.”

I looked up at him at last, unable to help myself. He was smiling in that way he has when we are alone and there is no one else to play to. He raised my hand to his lips and my heart fluttered as though it dared to hope for anything more.

“My dear, dear Bunny,” he said, running a thumb over my knuckles. Then he did something which amazed me more than words can say. Perhaps that is not quite the right idiom; they were, after all, just words. Words, words, words about how he admired me and how fortunate he felt to have me at his side. But he spoke at such length and with such sincerity I could do nothing but stare in amazement. I could not quite believe him, though I was closer to believing him than ever before. When, at length, he grew silent (though he still did not release my hand), I spluttered out an amazed “Thank you.”

“That’s just it, Bunny!” he said, half laughing, half…not. “You shouldn’t thank me. You’ve no reason to. You’ve no reason to do anything for me, no reason to be so unfailingly loyal. And yet I know with every fiber of my being that I can count on you, come what may. You are truly the most sporting rabbit this world has ever seen.”

“I’ve reason enough,” I smiled, squeezing his hand.  The way he smiled in return was worth all the vexation in the world.


End file.
